Odorokubeki Eiyu
by Sagitta
Summary: An AU fic set when the Victims first start attacking the colonies and Zion. Five unlikely candidates (some unwillingly taken) must unite as a team to save Zion. Warnings: LOTS of warnings in first chapter, YAOI later (G/E)


Odorokubeki Eiyu  
  
(The Unlikely Heroes)  
  
  
  
By Sagitta  
  
  
  
A/N: Warnings, warning, and drastic warnings! DARK, scary, and extremely AU and OOC. Street fighters, gangs, prostitutes, rape, cussing, dirtiness, death, lemons. . .the list goes on and on. . .but these warnings are only for the first chapter, alright?  
  
So those who read BEWARE!  
  
Oh yeah. . .Garu/Ernest! Yay! ~_^  
  
  
  
Gareas's Story:  
  
Stained Glass Windows  
  
  
  
"People are like stained glass windows. They shine and sparkle when the sun comes out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is shown only with a light from within."  
  
  
  
There was a heavy thud that made the ground quake, and then screams and curses. Passersby shook their heads sadly, whispering to their companions out of town or to those who did not know of the shadow that covered the rickety house on ordinary little Queen's Street.  
  
"I heard the police are seriously coming this time, you know. . ."  
  
"The poor, poor woman. . ."  
  
"Did she not have a child yet?"  
  
"Yes, a little boy. . ."  
  
Then one wintry day in the colony's seasonal year, the door opened and a pale, emaciated woman stepped out, a bloodstained shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders. Her eyes were bleak and her uniquely green hair tangled in desiccated clusters. Her arms wrapped protectively around the wailing baby tightly swathed in a cotton plaid blanket.  
  
The passersby stared at her, moving out of her path. She swayed on her feet, though not out of drunkenness like so many others who roamed the streets. Where she stepped, she bled. A trail of crimson marked her path.  
  
At last she came to her destination, a dark alley in the gloomiest part of town. Here drunks fled, here whores practiced their trade, here convicts hid from the loosening grasp of justice. But she had no fear, and gently set the baby on the ground.  
  
She hesitated. Pain clouded her eyes. She looked around helplessly, not wanting to leave her words unspoken. At last her face lifted to the pale azure sky in silent prayer to the Goddess, She who watches over all. "Gareas. His name is Gareas Elidd."  
  
The wind carried her words. The Goddess had not forgotten her.  
  
  
  
Fifteen Years Later. . .  
  
  
  
The place was packed, crammed full of people like a can of sardines. Not that anyone minded; they rubbed against each other in a blind haze, hands often surreptitiously perusing in the hopes of a quick touch. The disco beat shook the ground (or was it the feet?) as Kizna Towryk (*the* Kizna Towryk, mind you) crooned through the microphone to an enthusiastic crowd. Strippers fingered their bills and other. . .well, let's leave it at that, places. Yep, it was hectic.  
  
A green-haired teenager with an earring (everyone's got an earring these days) broke off from one of the strippers, a blonde pimp chewing enough bubble gum to stick a Gundam model together. She gave a little moan and tried to drag him back, but the boy tossed her a set of bills (without looking, most guys couldn't add money) and it vanished from her hand into thin air, and so did she.  
  
The boy glanced around, scoping the playing field, and then spied an acquaintance, a silver-haired boy somewhat younger than him (Goddess knows, those youth creams these days) in a corner, smoking a speed stick. A grin appeared on the former boy's face and he quickly wove his way through the crowd, a much under-appreciated art, and he soon appeared right next to him. "Hey, Hiead!"  
  
Hiead's expression didn't change, the same leisurely look a cat has when it finds itself in a room full of unsuspecting mice. He took a few moments to finally speak in a silky tone, almost as silky as his hair. "Gareas, what are you doing here? Thought you were checking out that new supply."  
  
Gareas shook his head, the golden earring tinkling like an Egyptian dream-catcher. He, also taking his time, turned to the Jake, the bartender who always seemed to be in a bad mood and had a certain hatred for pink- haired punks (Goddess knows why, it had to be a vulgar *pink*, hot and sassy, couldn't be a shade off). "One of those Galaxies, Jake." Gareas turned back to his acquaintance, still looking to be on the verge of dozing off (which was when Hiead was at his sharpest and most dangerous, Gareas knew). "Nah, Jade decided to take care of it." The boy snorted. "He'll probably pinch half of it and get on a high."  
  
Jake, who was glaring suspiciously at a girl with a pink Mohawk cut, handed him a glass filled with bubbling amber liquid absentmindly. Gareas gulped it down with the thirst of a man who hadn't felt his lips touch cold beer for fifteen years. He put it back down with a heavy thump. "Damn, these Saturday nights are wild. I think I haven't danced that much since Leena and I went to the motorcycle gala; must be Kizna and that crazy drummer of hers."  
  
"That crazy drummer is Zero Enna, son of a florist and a slut," Hiead said calmly, yawning ever-so-slightly. "My age, likes pop music, is allergic to pizza and marijuana, and thinks that guys wearing black leather are cool. Rash, excitable, and loud in bed. Eats faster than I can throw a knife."  
  
"You been checking him out?" Gareas grinned at him. "I'd rather go up and just ask him out, instead of studying him like some experimental test subject. How long you've been waiting?"  
  
"Around two weeks," Hiead drawled, eyes fixated on the boy, who was currently dancing with some dude in black leather. "I like to cover all my bases before I make a move."  
  
Gareas couldn't help but laugh. "You sound like. .like Heero Yuy attacking an enemy base!"  
  
"Ah, this'll work," Hiead said confidently. He stood up slowly, stretching himself. Gareas caught a glimpse of the glint of a knifeblade, Hiead's favorite weapon. "If that punk tries to cop a feel, I'm knifing him." He peered through the crowd as the brunette got on stage to rambunctious cheers and colorful suggestions. "He's got nice legs."  
  
Gareas almost choked on his Galaxy, and it was a good thing he stopped himself just in time cause Jake was a fussy neataholic. "Hiead, you're such a card. . ."  
  
Hiead smiled thinly at him as he prepared to leave and make a subtle move. "So are you, Gareas. By the way, the Cuores are coming down here; those filthy rich business people. Heard their son's quite the catch."  
  
"Huh? Hey, Hiead –"  
  
But Hiead was gone, and a few moments later, Gareas caught a glimpse of the silver-haired boy with Zero Enna leaning on his arm and staring at him as if he was the greatest thing in the world. Gareas scowled slightly, even though Zero was a bit young for him. Zero had nice legs though; yep, *very* nice, long legs that brushed against Hiead's flirtatiously ever so often. . .  
  
Gareas shook his head. Nah, he was too tired to go and get laid. Not even a blowjob. He tossed his head, emerald strands strewing all over the place, and the nearby girls sighed and giggled. He winked at them suggestively before striding out the door into the sleepy dawn. And sleepy it was, drowsy and content in the gray summer day, too lazy to drag the poor sun up.  
  
Gareas was planning to go back to the apartment he shared with Leena and take a nap. Yep, that was what he was planning to do, no more drugs for Gareas, even though the magnetic pull of a nice supply of speed just waiting for him. . .  
  
Ah, but what could a member of the Ichimi do? Gareas changed direction, greeting some drunken prostitutes on a high who tried to ply their trade. . .and it was a good try, but Gareas was used to swindlers and whores, and they weren't that much anyway.  
  
He walked past a few taverns, a few holes, some tattered buildings held together by Goddess-knows-what, but it had lasted for a hundred years and so would last another hundred. Alleys still dark with the farewells of night beckoned him to come in, and he ignored them. He finally stopped at the only building that looked like it could last another two hundred instead of one hundred years, and knocked. "Hey, Houston!"  
  
The door opened, and a potbellied man with a face redder than the idle morning sun appeared, wielding a wrench covered with soot. His face split into a grin. "Ah, Garu!"  
  
Gareas, dubbed Garu, grinned right back at him. "Bit busy?"  
  
Houston gestured vaguely toward his grunge-stained overalls. "Not really. Just working on this new Pluto model." He said this with some pride. Gareas whistled.  
  
"A Pluto? So who's the lucky bastard?"  
  
"Some business snob with a stick up his ass. I think his name was. . .Cure, somethin' like that," Houston said distastefully, making a face.  
  
"The Cuores. Hiead told me about them, said they were down here."  
  
Houston snorted and his nostrils flared. "Ah, your little rat friend!" He shook his wrench. "Tell him if he dares stick his albino head in my shop again, I'll make sure he can't pop out kids for the rest of his lifetime!"  
  
Gareas had to struggle to keep a straight face. "I'll tell him that." Even though Hiead comes here twenty times a week and he still hasn't figured that out yet. . . "I need my black Jetstream."  
  
Houston looked rueful. "Shoot; and I wanted to keep that baby for another few days. . ."  
  
"I'll put her right back after I'm done," Gareas promised the mechanic. Houston scratched his head.  
  
"Right then; she's next to that Darknight model, across from the Saurus."  
  
Gareas scanned the row of motorcycles in the back of the shop, noting that there were two damn good-looking CrimsonFire models that he would have to alert Hiead about (though Hiead probably already knew about them before they even came). Ah, it was good to have a thief as a friend. He spotted his own Jetstream at the side, polished and gleaned until it made the CrimsonFire look like a scratched piece of rubbish. It was also good to have a mechanic as a friend. He rubbed the gleaming surface in a sort of dazed awe, and then turned to Houston like he was some sort of god. "Houston, what in name of hell did you do?"  
  
Houston grinned, double chins wobbling. "Like it?"  
  
"Like it, you old man?! I *love* it!" Gareas tried a one-handed embrace, and settled for clapping him on the back. "I didn't think you could make her look like that!"  
  
"It's not just the looks," he said proudly. "I juiced up her motor and parts. . .you should hear her purr!"  
  
"Oh man, I *am* gonna hear her purr," Gareas said enthusiastically, taking the ebony motorcycle to the door. "I'm gonna take Jade out for a spin, maybe have a good time. . ."  
  
Houston snorted. "In my day, the way to court a guy was to get in a fight and knock the other out; these days, you punks get it easy, showing off motorcycles. . .well, have a good time! And don't lose her!"  
  
Gareas waved. "Don't worry; I won't!" He clambered on the velvet seat, starting the engine as she rumbled and droned like a streetcat taking her time, and then as they started to move, like Man O'War sprinting down the track, a beast barely contained, fighting for the rein. He zipped past admiring glances and quite a few catcalls, before pulling up at a little street lined with yellow houses that could've been clones, they all looked so alike. To Gareas, though, there was no problem. No problem at all. He went right to the third house, a little shack with cigarettes strewn all around on the jungle once known as a lawn, and shattered windows.  
  
Gareas surreptitiously glanced around before parking Jetstream next to the side, covering her with a blanket of ivy leaves, dew still dripping like silvery drops on the black metal. He grabbed a vine and started climbing, pausing every few seconds to make sure no one heard his feet thumping on the side of the collapsing wall. As it was, old man Staffer was busy in his own room, very busy indeed. Gareas could hear creaks and moans from all the way in the basement. Does that bald bastard hold orgies every Saturday or somethin'? He shook his head and kept climbing like a mountain climber until he got to the second floor, and rapped sharply on the window. "Yo, Jade!"  
  
The boy on the bed stirred, but he didn't wake. A strand of mauve drifted on his nose, and it twitched in irritation. Gareas tried again, this time a bit louder. "Jade! Jade, wake up!"  
  
This time the boy yawned, and his eyes opened a crack. Long eyelashes fluttered demurely at Gareas, before Jade finally realized that there was a guy banging on his second-floor window. With a yelp, he fell off the bed, revealing pajamas dotted with pink bunnies with pig snouts. Gareas rolled his eyes. Figures.  
  
The boy hastily brushed back his mess of long lilac hair, tangled in what appeared to be the remnants of a ponytail. He rushed to the window, unbolted the broken pane, and hissed, "Garu, what are you doing here?!"  
  
Garu grinned at him, perching with one hand on the vine. "Thought I'd take you for a spin. Houston fixed up Jetstream, and man, is she *sweet*!"  
  
Jade's eyes lit up. "A ride? Great!" He turned around to face the window. "Give me a few minutes here. . .I have to clean up. . ." He pushed aside the piles of heavy books littered on his desk. "Now, where is my brush. . .?"  
  
Gareas rolled his eyes. "Just rush your hands through it. So they finally let you back to the library?"  
  
Jade winced. His fingers finally found the end of a brush that seen better times, and he ran it through his hair as he talked. "My old man paid. Couldn't sit down for a week afterwards. . ."  
  
"Choosing between no books and a whipping, I'd take the empty shelf," Gareas commented wryly.  
  
Jade leaned in closer to the mirror, fighting with a knot that looked like it hadn't seen the artillery of a brush for two years, and, like a Saudi Arabian merchant who had (praise Allah) stumbled on a vast supply of oil, prospered during those golden years. The damn thing wasn't going to surrender now. "That because you don't know *how* to read, Gareas."  
  
"And I don't want to learn anytime soon," Gareas drawled. He glanced at the books snuggled into every nook and cranny of the room. "*Morte D'Arthur*? *Mists of Avalon*?! These books have to be like, two thousand years old!"  
  
"They're *classics*, Gareas," Jade said primly. "They're about medieval legends and King Arthur." He tossed back his head, reveling in the feeling of victory. Grabbing a pair of jeans, he collapsed onto the bed and wiggled out of his pajamas, tossing the pink bunnies under the bed and donning Levis. "Alright, let's go! Meet you at the front of the house, Garu!"  
  
Gareas sighed. And he had wanted to carry him down, maybe look good, score some points. Well, he had plenty of time for that. Sliding down the vine, he landed on the ground like a cat and uncovered the motorcycle, fresh and gleaming with new silvery streaks. Jade tiptoed out the door and gently shut it, not bothering to lock it. Nothing to steal, anyway, and guys who didn't like his dad numbered to just about Everyone. Including Jade himself.  
  
"Oh!" The boy gasped in delight when he saw the she-cat Gareas was sitting on. "It's so. . .cool! Gareas, where'd you get her?"  
  
Gareas grinned smugly. "Houston did some touchups on her. Damn fine, huh?"  
  
"I like the rider better," the boy replied flirtatiously. He ran a slender, pale hand on the shining surface in wonder and admiration before clambering on behind Gareas, latching on the other boy's waist. "So where're we goin'?"  
  
"I was thinking about the beach; there won't be many people there today," Gareas said conversationally as they started to move, Jade giggling and burying his face in the back of his neck as the wind began to make his hair stream and fly. "They're all at the Thundering Dynamo, what with Kizna Towryk –"  
  
"*The* Kizna Towryk?!" Jade almost shrieked with delight when Gareas nodded. "Oh, I absolutely adore her albums. . .let's go there later then!"  
  
Gareas shrugged. It looked like there was another day of dancing yet ahead for him. But Jade was no ordinary dance partner. . .no, Jade was *Jade*, the most popular boy for miles, the boy he had had a crush on for ten years. And he still had a crush on him – after all, who wouldn't, with a brilliant smile and long lavender hair and the scent of lilacs drifting wherever he went, like a distant memory? Loud, bright, *kind* Jade, who was kind when it truly mattered, instead of showing off like a conceited pimp to gain points. It was more than what Gareas could say for others.  
  
He gritted his teeth. The ride combined with the boy's hands around his waist and his face in his hair was making him hard. And quite warm too, comfortably warm. So warm he wanted to strip right there in then, maybe push Jade into an alley and have his way with him like most of the other guys did when they wanted some relief.  
  
Gareas couldn't think of molesting the boyhood friend he had had for almost all his life, though. A disappointment for an Ichimi member, that he hadn't even the heart or guts to screw someone who just *might* be unwilling. Goddess knew how many Kohji fucked, the damn cocky bastard who Gareas knew had a predatory eye for Jade, *his* Jade, mind you, not Kohji's, not anyone else's. . .  
  
He sighted the gray sands of the beach almost abruptly, slamming down the brakes so hard that he and Jade jerked slightly. Gareas winced as the boy's hand brushed on his crotch. Damn, the boy was subtle, but Garu wasn't sure if he was reading the signs right, or if it was just an accident. Such frustration in teenage love.  
  
Jade bounced off the seat, flapping his arms like wings, face to the sky. "Oh, that was amazing! Absolutely *amazing*!" He laughed and flopped down on the sand, Gareas joining him. "That was so fun, doncha think?!"  
  
Gareas grinned, sinking down into the warm blanket and finding himself staring into a pair of gorgeous amethyst eyes. "Yeah, great. . ." He felt dizzy, as if he was drunk and his mind had turned to mush. Jade's smile faded.  
  
"Gareas, is there something wrong?" A concerned look.  
  
Yeah, you, Gareas wanted to retort. But he shook his head, burying it even deeper into the sand. "No, I'm fine," he murmured. Jade bent over him, hair falling like a waterfall cascading onto Gareas's skin. The smell of lilacs was so close, so tantalizing fragrant, so agonizingly Jade. . .  
  
"You sure? You look kinda flushed; maybe it was the ride, you haven't ridden in a –"  
  
Gareas suddenly leaned forward and seized the boy's mouth in a kiss, tackling him onto the other side in a shower of sand. Jade's mouth felt warm and soft, like a gentle dream that Gareas desperately wanted, hungering for more as he pressed the boy against the ground, hips rubbing against each other. Jade's eyes were slightly closed; he was as lost as Gareas was, opening his mouth to let the boy's tongue ravish him.  
  
Gareas's hand brushed on the boy's shirt, going steadily down and then up and under, rubbing his nipples excruciatingly slowly. Everything was lost and forgotten in the moment, ditched, thrown, whatever, because Gareas Elidd and Jade Staffer (later he was to change this name to Elidd) were spirited to a world where everything was just perfect.  
  
They finally separated from their kiss, noses touching, eyes caught in each other. Both were panting, breathtaken, minds unwilling and unable to think, before Jade pulled Gareas back into another heated kiss. Emerald strands melted in violet, hands tangled in each other's hair, searching for that one glorious moment of freedom in desire. . .  
  
Gareas's hand nimbly tackled the boy's belt, aching so hard that he thought he would burst, or at least he would need new jeans, but Jade reluctantly shook his head. "No, Gareas. I . . . I want my first time to be on a *real* bed."  
  
"Your first time?!" Gareas was so shocked, he almost fell over on top of a scurrying crab that shook its pincers at him angrily. As it was, he didn't notice. "How. . how?"  
  
"How could I still be a virgin?" Jade sighed. "My mom was still alive when I was a child, and she was so protective I wasn't allowed to go five feet from her. When she died, I stuck around with her friends and tried to stay away from gang members and my pap."  
  
"Oh." Gareas was flushed. "I. .I'm not entirely used to busting someone's cherry, you know. . .but there's a first time for everything, I guess," he muttered lamely. Jade smiled at him.  
  
"It's okay, Garu. I trust you. But like I said, I want my first time on a real bed, not taken like some bitch in heat on the ground."  
  
"My place then," Garu said quickly. "Leena won't mind." He sat up, extending the boy a hand to pull him up. Jade glanced at the bulge in his pants and blushed.  
  
"Sorry, Garu; I guess I shouldn't have gotten you like that before I meant it."  
  
Gareas shook his head and waved him off nonchalantly, even though he felt so frustrated that just about anything with a hole looked sexy. As if sensing his thoughts, a terrier that had been scouting a certain frustrating crab scampered away rather abruptly, letting the lucky crustacean escape. Gareas sighed and got back on Jetstream, Jade close behind him.  
  
The large gray building covered with colorful graffiti (so much that only Gareas could tell that the bricks were originally gray) was where he lived, in a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor. He was all ready to leap off, sprint up the stairs, and rush to the mattress with Jade in his arms, if it were not for a crowd of guys (Gareas recognized Kohji, what with the crew cut and muscles that would have put Superman to shame; hell, even Goku from Dragonball Z!) gathered around some whimpering blonde. He rolled his eyes. "I wish they wouldn't rape people on the streets; geesh, have some courtesy and push them in some alley or something!"  
  
Jade looked slightly worried. "Shouldn't we do something?"  
  
The boy was screaming now, high-pitched, desperate screams. The men were rubbing him, suffocating and pressing him against the wall. Kohji was holding the tattered remains of what was once a navy blue silk blouse, pulling at the boy's hair, hands going where they really shouldn't be going.  
  
Gareas bit his lip. As much as he wanted to teach Kohji a good lesson or two, the guy had to be a professional boxer or something, and he did want to sleep with Jade with an intact body. And he wanted to live. "No. Just ignore them."  
  
Jade sighed. "You're right; it happens every day, nothing out of the ordinary. . ." He started toward the building.  
  
The door suddenly slammed wide open, and a blond-haired, sharp-eyed, scowling teenage girl stepped out. Garu's eyes widened. "Leena!"  
  
Leena marched right over to where the gang was and swiftly dealt a backhand to Kohji. The guy was so shocked that he stumbled back, the imprint of a hand blazing angrily on his cheek. "What do you all of you think you're doing, huh? Raping people weaker than yourselves?!"  
  
The boy gave a small sob and slid down into a huddle on the ground in a pool of blood.  
  
The gang looked embarrassed. "Aw, come on, Leena, we were just havin' some fun. . ."one of them murmured.  
  
"So this is your idea of 'havin' fun'?" Leena snapped furiously. The guy shook his head, mumbling and looking down as if the cement was suddenly very interesting.  
  
Kohji stepped forward. "This bitch here is one of the Cuores," he said, gesturing toward the huddled boy. "A fucking rich whelp."  
  
"So? *So*?!" Leena pushed him, forcing the taller man back. "I want you out of here! Now!"  
  
It was amazing how fast five guys could run, though Gareas could swear that each and every one of them boasted that they had never run from a fight before.  
  
Leena turned around and her dark sapphire eyes, stormier than the seven seas, nailed him. "And you, Gareas Elidd! What the hell were you thinking of, standing there gawking while some boy was getting raped?!"  
  
Gareas scowled. "Leena, you'd be okay if you tried to pick a fight with them. . .but they'd *cream* me!"  
  
"Oh sure, they wouldn't dare fight with lil' old me, Miss Barely-A- Hundred-Pounds, but they'd sure love to bulldoze a professional streetfighter!" Leena went forward and grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the building. Gareas turned back and mouthed 'I'll come back for you' to Jade, who nodded and vanished gladly.  
  
Leena tossed her jacket to the boy almost contemptuously. The boy looked at her with wide, pained eyes. "I ain't got no love for the upper folks, mind you, but I don't like hearing someone scream when I'm trying to sleep," she said harshly. "Next time, I won't be here, and no one will help you then. Don't come back."  
  
The boy nodded and hesitantly picked up the jacket. "What about. . .?"  
  
"Keep the jacket."  
  
He nodded, draping it over his bare arms, and shakily got up to his feet. Leena watched as he made his way through the street, stumbling but running as fast as possible. "Stupid boy; shouldn't have gotten rid of his bodyguards. . ." But she said this almost sadly.  
  
Gareas glanced back longingly after where Jade left, scents of lilac still drifting in the warm air like taunting reminiscences. "I was so close. . ."  
  
Leena whirled around on him. "Gareas Elidd, I haven't forgotten you," she growled. Gareas gulped; Leena could be quite scary at times. He found himself being dragged up the six flights of stairs, jumping past the broken steps that he had fixed in his memory. But it seemed that Leena had made a new one in all her stomping, and so he almost fell through the crack. "Ow; Leena!"  
  
The girl ignored him. She yanked him right back up with a surprising strength, and slammed open the door (keys and locks were simply not fashionable, which made the work of thieves all the more easier – not that there was anything worth stealing.). She pushed Gareas on the ratty, checkered couch they had picked up off the street, hands on her hips. "What the hell was wrong with you?!"  
  
"What?!" Gareas looked at her helplessly. "It's not like I'm going to go against five guys for some rich kid –"  
  
"I don't care if it's five guys, if it's some rich kid," Leena snarled, pacing back and forth, her fingers rubbing at her temples. Bright red fingernails that looked like they hadn't seen a clip for a year stood in stark contrast against her pale skin. "It's a *principle*, Gareas. Sure, those up there may say we got no principles, but we do, and picking on people weaker than ourselves is not one of them. One of the unspoken rules of the streets. Know where we got that, Garu?"  
  
Gareas shook his head. "Leena, I've never heard that before."  
  
She sighed. "That's because you're hanging too much with the new generation, Gareas. That gang of yours. The generation that's lost touch with its roots, the only thing that separates us from beasts." Leena's anger had calmed down, and now she was only exasperated. "We came down here because we had nowhere to go. Because the folks above picked on us, picked on us 'cause we were weaker than them, and that's why we still hate them. Guns, booze, sex, drugs – those are things you see everyday, Gareas. That's why they despise us. But we're all *one*, which is more than they can say, and we defend our own."  
  
"He wasn't our own," Gareas muttered bitterly.  
  
"That doesn't mean you can go back on history, Gareas. Those friends of yours may have forgotten what we had to go through, but you can't."  
  
"Why can't I?" Gareas challenged. Leena looked at him, and suddenly he felt guilty. Because there was so much pain in her eyes.  
  
"You can't, because you're different. I knew that from the moment I saw you. You're different than them, Gareas; you're so much more than you think you are. This isn't the place for you, and if I just had the money, I would get you out of here."  
  
"I don't want to get out," Gareas said sullenly. "I want to stay here. This is my home."  
  
Leena smiled at him faintly, and her eyes glimmered with a watery sheen. "I'm glad you can say that with pride, Garu. But the world's a big place. If ever you do go out, I don't want you to go back on what you have here."  
  
"Leena," Garu hesitated, "are you going to cry?"  
  
She turned away, and a moment later when she looked up, there were no tears. "I've cried once in my whole life, and it's going to stay that way," she murmured fiercely. "But promise me, Garu. . .don't ever cross that fine line between man and beast. Stepping out of the way is the first step to a long, long road, ending at Hell's door."  
  
Gareas nodded. He got up, aching to stretch, but figured that would make Leena feel as if he didn't care. (To be frank, he really didn't). "Promise, Leena."  
  
"And don't let me ever catch you going back, 'cause a traitor betrays and is betrayed back for all his life."  
  
Gareas nodded again absentmindly, going out the doorway to rush down the stairs. Leena stared after him quietly. After a while, she hurriedly wiped her eyes. "Gareas, what's happening to you. . .?"  
  
Gareas was most certainly not wondering what was changing about him. His thoughts were filled with a certain black motorcycle. Damn, his Jetstream. . .ah, Jade probably took it, knowing he'd forget to bring it up. Throwing open the door, he saw that it was gone, but a heady scent of lilacs still remained. Jade had (smart boy) taken it. He trudged back up the stairs, suddenly feeling very tired. It wasn't as if his body was weary, it was just that he felt like he had failed in something, though he didn't know what. It was the weariness of finding but not knowing.  
  
It took him ten minutes to lumber up in a sleepy haze. Once Leena brushed past him, unspeaking, her eyes challenging Gareas to say something. He didn't. He dove for the couch once inside, intending to take a long- awaited nap, but his head encountered the crackling of paper. Frowning, he sat up and perused the note. He didn't really know how to read, only a bit that Leena had forced him to learn because she often left notes. After some trouble with her sloppy handwriting, he finally figured out that she had gone out to get some money; something about the rent. Hypocrite; always this rubbish about principles. . .honestly, she's a prostitute, how many principles does she have?  
  
He got up to throw the note in the overloaded trashcan, but as he walked, he noticed something.  
  
A trail of drops blotched the floor from the sofa to the door.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
The next day there was a meeting, and Gareas found himself in a packed den, filled with guys who looked more like criminals than anything else. As people were, they were actually pretty decent, excepting Kohji and his little cult. The creepy bastard had made up a story about how Leena had called the police and bodyguards to drive him off, with his worshipping sycophants nodding at just the right moments. Gareas rolled his eyes. With guys like Kohji, you just had to give some.  
  
Jade greeted him softly, his head buried in his usual thousand-page book. He had given Houston Jetstream, and Gareas was quite grateful for that, since Jade's place also sported the fashionable easy-open door. Kohji glanced hungrily at him. "Hey Jade, you going anywhere today?"  
  
Jade looked at him. "Yes, I'm staying with Gareas," he said calmly. Gareas felt a blush rise to his cheeks as Kohji scowled and the others catcalled.  
  
"What are ya staying with that wimp for?" He sauntered over, line of Kohji-wannabees right behind him. A hand reached for a pale cheek, and Jade flinched and turned aside. "Come on baby, he doesn't deserve you. . ."  
  
Gareas's legendary temper flared. He shoved the bulkier man back angrily and spat, "Leave Jade alone, you f***ing sonuvab****!" Jade grabbed his arm with a pleading look.  
  
"Gareas, it's not worth it. . ."  
  
A fight was exactly what Kohji was looking for, but it was dangerous; too many people supported Gareas in the room. He jerked his head over towards the door. "Let's take this outside."  
  
"Alright," Gareas snapped, leaping up to go after him, but Jade pulled his arm.  
  
"No, Gareas, don't push fights. . .you know Schulz hates them. . .!"  
  
"I don't care," the boy snarled. He'd been looking for Jade all those years, and he sure wasn't going to let some bastard lay a hand on him now. But Jade stepped in front of him.  
  
"Fight, and I'll dump you," he said determinately. Gareas saw that he was serious, and became hesitant. If it weren't for the blockhead showing up again.  
  
"Oh, so he's too chicken to fight for you?" Kohji appeared, right behind Jade. The boy whirled around and brought up his hands before he could make a grab for his waist; Kohji settled for the boy's wrists instead, gripping them so hard Jade winced. "Come with me, I'll give you a good time. . ."  
  
Gareas saw red. "Haven't you heard not to pick on those weaker than you?!"  
  
Kohji snorted. "Don't tell me you've been listening to that Leena bitch," he taunted. Jade finally wriggled out of his grasp, and rushed next to Gareas, who was wavering between a boyfriend and a chance to knock Kohji's face in dirt. "Nope, never heard that."  
  
"You shouldn't have *heard* it," a voice from the doorway said. Kohji turned around abruptly, to see their leader Schulz standing there, silhouetted in the sunlight. Schulz was a middle-aged man, strict but kind in a gruff sort of way, possessing a leadership that made followers, whether criminals, druggies, or bookworms, flock to him. He was an enigma for many, never drinking, smoking, using drugs, or starting fights. He didn't take prostitutes, didn't watch porno, didn't like it if anyone did one of his Forbiddens in his sight. Kohji often joked cruelly on how he was an old man, almost, and how weak he was, much like those above. Gareas found it funny that for all his big talk, Kohji seemed to cringe against his silhouette. "It's not spoken, but ingrained throughout one's life here."  
  
"I-I suppose," Kohji muttered sulkily. Schulz looked past him, right into Gareas's eyes. The boy flushed with an unshakable feeling that the man could see right into him, knew that he had wanted a fight. He was the first to look away.  
  
Schulz clapped his hands. "All right; what's this I hear about the new orphanage?"  
  
A general murmur swept through the crowd, and hands started going up.  
  
The meeting lasted around a half hour of talking, with the conclusion that the Abbess could lead the orphanage, as long as she didn't try to teach Christianity to the children. For it was the Goddess that ruled the streets, though few believed in her; she was just a symbol, a fairy tale that somehow wove into society and often was as common as beer, which was truly saying something as beer was *very* prevalent. Gareas got up to leave, stifling a yawn, as people filed past him. Jade waited for him at the doorway patiently. As long as Schulz was in the room, Kohji didn't dare try a move.  
  
"Gareas."  
  
Gareas turned around, surprised. Schulz beckoned towards him. "Stay behind; I have something to tell you."  
  
Jade sighed, and with a quick farewell, disappeared from the doorway. Gareas mentally cursed. "What is it?" he snapped irritably.  
  
Schulz didn't seem to notice his annoyance. Instead, he only swept a glance around the deserted room, peculiar gray eyes taking in everything and perhaps a bit more. At last he turned back to the impatient boy leaning against the wall. "Gareas, I am going to give up my leadership soon."  
  
"What?!" Gareas almost fell. He stared, shocked, at the other man. "But you can't! Are you going somewhere or something?" You can't go, you're like a father to me. . .  
  
"Yes, Garu." It was one of the few times that Schulz spoke his name. "I'll go soon. And I want *you* to take my responsibility."  
  
Gareas gaped at him. "Did. . did I hear that right? You want *me* to take over?"  
  
"Yes," Schulz said slowly and clearly. A faint smile appeared on his weathered face. "I've known you for a long time, Gareas. You don't have to take it if you don't wish to, but I can't think of anyone better."  
  
Gareas looked at the floor. Am I dreaming? I'll fail him. . .I can't lead. . "I want the job, Schulz, I really do. . .but I doubt if I'll be any good at it."  
  
"It all comes with experience," Schulz murmured. "You don't have to be any good at it at first, Garu, but you've got a good heart, and that's what matters."  
  
Gareas flushed. "That's what Leena says, but I sure don't feel like I have one."  
  
Schulz smiled again. "Leena's a sharp girl." He coughed softly for a moment, and Gareas reached forward concernedly to help him. He straightened a few moments later. "Not many people would care about a sick man, Gareas, but you do. She's the one telling you that you shouldn't pick on others, am I right?"  
  
"Yeah, and she's always listing off principles and whatnot," Gareas grumbled. "I don't understand her. There're no principles down here."  
  
"There used to be," Schulz said calmly. "You have to look deeper than the surface. Don't judge a book by its cover; just because it's a hard life here doesn't mean you can't see farther than all those illegal paraphernalia your generation is so interested in. Up there, darkness stalks disguised as light; down here, darkness is plain darkness, and that makes light all the more beautiful." He coughed slightly again. "Ever heard of the saying 'people are like stained glass windows'? Well, up there, they shine when the sun comes out, when so much light surrounds them, one can't see the real person. Down here, there's only darkness, and that's when you see right into a person's soul."  
  
Gareas felt his head spinning. "I don't understand," he admitted. Schulz shrugged.  
  
"One day it'll all click, Gareas," he said gently. "Don't push it now."  
  
Gareas started to speak again, but a thump behind him made him spin around. He came face-to-face with a shadow. . or rather, two shadows. Two huge guys in black who could make Kohji look like a puny wimp were right in front of him. "Huh?"  
  
One of the men grabbed his shoulder in an iron grip. "You're coming with us," he growled. A delicate sneer was plastered on his face, as if touching Gareas was like touching crap or worse.  
  
Schulz stepped forward, grabbing the man's arm. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded. A frown creased his brows.  
  
The other man pushed him back. "Stay out of our way, or you'll regret it." There was a threatening undertone in his voice. Gareas fought to get out of the grip, his shoulder barely getting any circulation in the painful grasp.  
  
"Let me go!"  
  
The man laughed. "No, you're coming, you little rat," he snarled, pulling Gareas toward the door.  
  
"Not without a fight," Schulz said icily. "My Ichimi roam the streets. You're not going anywhere."  
  
"I told you not to get involved," the man snapped impatiently. He nodded towards the door. "Come on, let's go."  
  
Schulz suddenly yanked his shoulder, dragging him back and slamming the man against the wall. Gareas's eyes widened in surprise; Schulz never fought. He slammed his elbow into his capturer's stomach, wrenching free as the man reached for him and missed. The other man brutally punched Schulz on the face; Schulz never fought, he didn't know how to fight. . .he went down. . .  
  
With a cry of rage, Gareas dove for him, ramming him on the ground. Fists went flying towards the man's face; Gareas vented all his fury at him, his frustration, his anger, his pain. The man held up his hands, shielding his face, and with a final growl, Gareas's eyes cleared of their haze. He vaguely remembered Schulz, lying on the floor, and rushed back. The man's partner, recovered from his jab, wrapped around him in a bear hug. Gareas struggled. "Schulz; Schulz!"  
  
The still form didn't move. The other man got up and suddenly slapped Gareas hard, leaving a stinging imprint. Gareas glared at him. "I'll teach you a lesson, you little punk. . .!"  
  
"No, Kiren," the man imprisoning him said. "They won't be pleased. And I think you killed the guy." He motioned toward Schulz.  
  
"Ach, it was only a punch." The man walked over and contemptuously kicked him. There was no movement, and Gareas felt his heart rise in his throat. It can't be. .  
  
The man got down on a knee, and expertly ran a hand over Schulz's chest. "Shucks, the dude *is* dead. Obviously had a heart problem, and his heart just burst."  
  
"No!" Gareas screamed, and he lunged forward; the man barely held him back, and the other had to grab him as well. "No, it can't be. . ." Tears clouded his vision, and his knees suddenly felt very weak. He slowly slid down to his knees, hands pressing on the cold floor, head hanging. "It can't. . ."  
  
I'll go soon. . .  
  
Father. . .  
  
For the first time in his life, Gareas Elidd cried.  
  
The men mercilessly picked up the powerless boy and left, but dark memories stayed behind.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
There was a knock on the door, and the man slowly slid off of her with an annoyed grunt. Leena grabbed a shirt and her slippers, scowling as she walked to the door. The knocks became more and more frequent as she reached for the doorknob. "Alright, I'm comin'. . ." Honestly, who bothers to knock these days?!  
  
The door opened with an audible creak. Leena glanced with a raised eyebrow at the men dressed in black in the doorway, complete with sunglasses and all. "What are you, the Men in Black? I ain't no alien, ain't holding no E.T.s. . ."  
  
One of the men cleared his throat authoritively. "Ma'am –"  
  
"I'm no 'ma'am'," Leena said abruptly. "Spit it out. Is Garu in trouble?"  
  
"No, but we need you to come with us," the man said. The other reached for her, and she shrugged him off. "It's important. Top-secret."  
  
Leena laughed harshly. "Top-secret, huh? I'm not going until I know exactly what it is you want me for. Don't worry, Al won't remember this; he's drunk."  
  
Al raised his beer bottle in a shaky salute.  
  
The man wrinkled his nose in distaste. He and his partner exchanged mutual glances while Leena tapped her foot impatiently. "All right. Have you heard of the Victims?"  
  
"You mean those aliens attacking the colonies? Yup, heard of 'em, don't care a bit."  
  
"Well, they're starting to become more than a nuisance," the man said uneasily. "They're officially an enemy of mankind."  
  
"Thought there were lots of enemies of mankind," Leena said tartly. "Death, pollution, Treize Kushrenada."  
  
"Yes. . .well, they have the potential to destroy Zion, the last planet. We are looking for pilots and repairers with a special ability, called EX, to counter them and drive them off."  
  
"Last time I checked, I didn't make nothing float when I was a toddler," Leena snapped. "So what're you doin' here?"  
  
"Ma'am, you're making it hard on us here. ."  
  
"Haven't I told you not to call me ma'am?"  
  
The poor man finally exploded. "Your roommate, Gareas Elidd, has been identified with EX. You are his repairer, and we intend to bring you and him to GOA, a special elite training school."  
  
"I caught all that," Leena said calmly. "And I don't believe a word you say."  
  
"And we don't care, because you will." The man grabbed her arm, and his partner the other. Leena scowled, swatting at them.  
  
"Lemme go, you f***ing damn bastards. . .no respect to girls. . .ow! Whadya think you're doing, trying to sneak a hand. . .oh, don't look at me like that, I know about all your dirty little thoughts. . ."  
  
"I really pity this Gareas kid."  
  
"Yup, know what you mean. . ."  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Laughter. . .  
  
Voices. . .drunken, slurred words. . .  
  
Pain. He brought his knees up closer, hand gingerly feeling where it hurt. It came away sticky with blood, and he was afraid to look anymore. He felt like crying, but down there, no one cried. He had never learned how to.  
  
Stricken young eyes took in everything around him like a dizzy dream, drinking in colors, sounds, images. But pain kept drawing him back, pain that kept coming and coming, wouldn't leave him alone. . . .hands perused him, hard, callused ones. . .harsh laughter. . .  
  
He whimpered and tried to free himself from the bodies, but the laughter only pounded louder in his ears and the blood kept flowing and the hands became rougher and there was so much pain that he almost couldn't see –  
  
With a cry, he shielded his eyes, afraid to see Pain coming for him. Light exploded, and then there was shrieks and shrill cries, none of them his. He sobbed, terrified, and crouched smaller, wishing that he would be tinier than the cat that sometimes came to him and was the only gentleness he ever knew, wishing that They wouldn't see him, whoever They were, but they were some bad people and they wanted to get him. . .  
  
The light finally faded, and when he peeked through a crack in his eyelids long moments later, he saw the room as the dark prison he had been captive of. But there were no hands or naked flesh, and the men were lying on the ground, unmoving. He whimpered softly, confused at their stillness. At last he reached out a tentative hand and touched, very lightly, the arm of a man sprawled on the floor. There was blood again, and he became even more bewildered. Blood only came from him; why did they have blood?  
  
Looking around, he saw that many of them had shocked looks on their faces, like frozen images in time. Blood pooled around them. It was then that he realized they were like the people whom he saw all the time, people who lay in the alleys in heaps and in the compost buckets, stiff, lifeless people. People that couldn't talk, couldn't feel, couldn't even breathe. They were cardboard people, people that lacked something normal people had. He found the thought that they existed somewhat frightening.  
  
He started to move, knowing that a stench would fill the room soon. He wondered if that stench was what left the cardboard people, what made them that way. But the revolting smell didn't come until later, slowly seeping from their bodies.  
  
The door opened, and he stumbled off the steps. Darkness lay in the streets. With darkness stalked more pain, he knew, but he had to keep moving. Down there, if you stopped, you suffered. It was an unconscious rule drilled into him from the beginning.  
  
He finally found a building, a tavern flashing revealing ads and neon colors. This was a new place, and he suddenly found himself very thirsty. Hungry too, but he was always hungry. He opened the door.  
  
Blinking colors danced on the floor, amid a crowd of people. He hesitated. He had never seen such strange, sporadic colors before, and so many people. Their bodies insinuated and blended into one great writhing being, a monster made of patchworks. A man abruptly blocked his view, and he stiffened. "Hey, nobody under eighteen allowed in here! Get out!" He waved his hand towards him, and he took a step back.  
  
"Is. . .is there any water?" His voice came out hoarse and raspy. The man scowled.  
  
"Yeah, but you're not gonna get it here, so *scat*!"  
  
'Scat' was a word reserved for a cat, he understood. But he was no cat, and so didn't move. The man stared at him and looked about to kick him out, but another man, bigger and taller, approached them.  
  
"Let the little boy stay. . .he can provide some entertainment!" The man guffawed. A cold dread crept up the boy's spine. Something was wrong, and that something was very close to what had happened to him before. He backed away, faltering, and then turned and ran. He was glad when he did not hear the sounds of running feet after him.  
  
He didn't stop, even though his legs became lead and rain began falling, soaking him through and through. It was only when he could not run anymore that he finally stopped, panting and gasping for breath. He dropped to his knees, hands gripping the slippery cobblestones.  
  
Footsteps. He wearily looked up, and met eyes with amethyst ones. It was another boy around his size, but there was something uniquely different about him. It was an essence, something inside that had nothing to do with how the boy looked, nothing to do with the violet eyes and long violet hair, and the fragrant smell of something foreign to him. A smile was on the boy's face, and he felt puzzled. What was this new expression that he had never seen before, that made him strangely warm inside. . .?  
  
"Hi, I'm Jade. Are you lost?"  
  
Lost? He was always lost. So he nodded, and the boy took his hand. It was a gentle grip, not the harsh ones he was used to. "Come with me then. I'll take you to Schulz; he'll take care of you."  
  
The two boys made their way around the street, rain drenching the darkness and the heaviness one of them felt, like a tiresome burden. At last the boy with the violet hair came to a door and knocked, another foreign gesture. The door opened and a tall man appeared, a grizzly man with a weathered face but same gentle smile. The boy unconsciously felt a great tranquility settle over him.  
  
He was home.  
  
1 Gareas woke up feverish and panting. His hair was wet with sweat and stuck to the pillow, and he felt his own hands shake. Schulz. . .Jade. . .  
  
How vivid the dream had been, as if he had been transported back in time to when he was a young boy. Everything was sharp and clear, standing out in defining detail, almost surreal. Somehow in his dream, he had gone back to a young boy's mind, taking in everything with a childlike naivety.  
  
He stood up and walked to the huge window, where he could see the misty-gray colony gradually receding. He wanted to escape, but the door was locked, and it wasn't like he could freefall through space in a stolen pilot suit and expect to live. The damn nitwits hadn't even bothered to tell him what they were holding him for, just shoved in him in the room and bolted the door tight. He felt like one of the Most Wanted fugitives.  
  
Gareas moodily kicked the bed, and instantly regretted it later as his foot throbbed in pain. It vanished as he thought of how he would slooowly kill the bastards that had killed Schulz; not with a gun, no, Gareas Elidd thought that death was a bit quick – perhaps strangling or choking while taunting them.  
  
His blood rose at the thought, and then bile. He wasn't that sort of person, who enjoyed others' pain. A gun. Yes, a shot, and then peace.  
  
He buried his face in his shirt. Lilac aromas drifted, swirling around him in a fragrant haze. Visions of a violet-haired boy surfaced in his mind, seeking for him, extending his hand for help. Gareas ached to go back; what if Jade was in danger? Schulz was dead; Kohji might use that to his advantage. Plus there was the fact that he was gone, so that left Jade open.  
  
Just the thought of the boy with Kohji made Gareas depressed and mad at the same time.  
  
He looked out the window again, heart pounding. The colony was now no more than a pebble-sized dot, lost among the starry background that sparkled and glimmered in the darkness. It looked like a poster, something professional photographers would've loved to take to represent the beauty and serenity of space. Unreal. Flat, with no dimensions, but echoing something very far away. . . .  
  
Gareas thought that the scene looked very much like a stained glass window. 


End file.
